Bo Henry Pelletier is my name, but most people call me "Rattler".  Guess it's 'cause I have several pet snakes (two boa constrictors and a Burmese python).  I used to have a rattlesnake, but the durn thing got loose, and I have never been able to find him.  Mebbe he got out, or maybe he died ... hope so; don't wanna risk gettin' bit, y'know??

Ever since, people have called me "Rattler".  I've always loved snakes, even as a small boy growin' up in south Louisiana.

Anyways, back to my story.  I now live in Houston, Texas ("the armpit of the world"), and I am trying to get a grip on things.  Just got out of jail yet again (this time it was 'cause I stole some CD's from a Wal*Mart, and the security camera caught me; I got stone cold busted!).  I was in the pen for a month for this latest incident.  Before then, I was in for swipin' some tools from an auto parts store, and another time for liftin' some shoes (also from a Wal*Mart).

Seems I can never keep my mitts off of things.  I have always had this bad habit of stealing things.  I guess it's 'cause I didn't have much as a boy, and I wanted somethin' really bad because we just didn't have the money ... not with 18 brothers and sisters in my family! 

I had to fight to get somethin' halfway decent.  By the time somethin' come to me, it was either wore out to hell, or it was no longer good, so I resorted to stealin'.  Pretty dumb, eh?  Guess I didn't learn my lesson, 'cause I'm still stealin'!  Got the pretty li'l jail record to prove it, too.  Been in jail over 20 times, and now that I'm in civilization again, I'd best watch myself, or I could end up in a state jail, and they're a lot harder on us criminals than the local outfits are!

Been tryin' to find me a job.  No go.  People see I've been in jail; they don't wanna have to do anythin' with me.  So I keep poundin' the sidewalk, in the desperate hope of findin' someone, some place, that WILL hire me, even though I am a (sorta' reformed) criminal!!  It's really frustratin' comin' up empty yet again!

I also have to see my parole officer every week, and he checks up on me every few days, to see how I'm doin'.  I tell him, I'm doin' no good 'cause I still ain't got a job, and I'm sick of bein' treated like a bag of fresh dog shit 'cause I can't get a damn job!!  He tells me to keep tryin'; I'm ready to just hang it all up!

Well, we'll see what today brings.  Hopefully somethin' good will come out of it; Lord knows I need a break from this humdrum life!  Being a free man ain't what it is all cracked up to be!  If you ask me, freedom sucks!!  At times, I'd rather be at my jail cell, because at least there I had a place to sleep and food in my belly on a regular basis!

*To be continued.*